Hitting the Gym
by cmr2014
Summary: Nothing says male bonding like a trip to the gym. Consider it AU if you want,


DISCLAIMER: Trigun and its characters belong to Yasuhiro Nightow.

**Hitting the Gym**

There were reasons Vash the Stampede worked out alone instead of going to the gym.

One was the music. It was insidiously vapid. Even if it had been good, how was he supposed to work out while distracted by music?

Another was the fact that people hogged stations while ogling women who were actually trying to work out. Hard to get anything done when you're waiting for a guy's eyes to finish popping out of his head.

Still another was people who did curls in the squat rack. Seriously, guys?

But the main reason was the damn sweatsuit. He hadn't even done anything yet, and he was already sweating.

"When I invited you along," Wolfwood said next to him, "I didn't think your purpose in coming would be to make me look bad." The priest was rather fetchingly dressed in skull-pattern workout pants and a tight-fitting sleeveless. His lithe muscles rippled as he moved.

"_Your_ scars are the kind women swoon over," Vash pointed out. "_My_ scars give people nightmares. I don't go out without something to cover me. I feel naked enough already without my gun."

"Couldn't be helped," Wolfwood said. "It's a gym, testosterone runs high. Gotta check the guns at the door. And anyway –" He smirked. "– you don't seem to mind Meryl seeing your scars. Those weren't nightmare screams I heard last night."

Color spread all over Vash's face. "That's different. Meryl – she – she won't – she's different. I love – she and I – she's my Meryl. She's the exception."

Wolfwood snickered at how tongue-tied Vash could get over Meryl Stryfe. "Come on, let's hit the weights."

The weight room was not what Vash had expected. "What are these contraptions doing here? Where's all the weights and bars?"

Wolfwood slapped him on the back. "That's old-school gyms. These modern ones, they use these machines. Safer, and they do half the work for you. Makes it real easy to impress the girls." He thumbed over at the leotard-clad women in various poses over in the yoga section.

"Here," continued the priest, "try the chest press. I press a hundred fifty kilos, that should be easy enough for a tough guy like you." He set the desired weight and pushed Vash into the bench seat.

"I just push these out?" Vash asked, motioning to the machine handles.

"Yep. Give it a shot."

Vash pushed out, struggling. His face turned red with exertion.

"Damn it, spikey, you're making me look bad!" Wolfwood snapped. "How can a guy who knocks out handstand push-ups like you do have trouble pressing one-fifty on something that's doing half the work for you?"

"Different plane of motion," Vash grunted. "And I don't weigh a hundred fifty kilos." He was starting to look like a cherry after two repetitions.

"Those girls are going to look over here any second. Put some effort into it! Look, just picture somebody's holding you down while bad things are happening to Meryl."

Vash thought of Meryl being hurt.

The sound of metal breaking rang through the gym as the handles snapped off the machine and the weights came crashing down. Wolfwood pulled him out and hustled him away. "You're more a combat guy, anyway, let's try the heavy bag."

Wolfwood laced up some gloves on Vash's hands and put him to work. Vash was taking it easy, working primarily one-two combinations, just getting his wind.

"Hey, you! On the bag! Get in here, I need a sparring partner!" Somebody thought he had found an easy target.

Vash looked over. "No thanks, I'm not really –"

Wolfwood cut him off. "Will you shut up? You've been challenged. Gorgeous ladies are going to be watching, man up!" He pushed Vash over into the sparring area.

Vash, always a pacifist at heart, didn't see the point of fighting just to fight. He tried to take it easy on his opponent, landing a few light shots.

"Damn it, spikey, you're making me look bad!" Wolfwood snarled. "Unload on this guy already."

Vash turned to address Wolfwood. "I don't want to hurt – phah!" He ate a stiff jab.

"Keep your guard up!" Wolfwood hollered. "Look, just picture this guy hurting Meryl!"

Vash thought of Meryl being hurt by his opponent.

_PA-CRACK!_

"Somebody call a medic, a guy's jaw just got broken!"

Wolfwood tore off Vash's gloves and hustled him away.

"Hey!" A guy in some kind of martial arts gi walked up. "I've been watching you, guy. You're pretty strong. And good with your fists. But I think my grappling can beat your boxing. Care for a friendly match?"

"You know, I actually don't –"

Wolfwood butted in again. "Challenge accepted!"

They went to the mats. Vash could throw down when the situation called for it, but this didn't call for it. This guy seemed nice, and he just wanted to have a fun little go of it. They circled, looking for openings.

"Damn it, spikey, you're making me look bad!" Wolfwood roared. "Look, just picture this guy hurting Meryl!"

The guy in the gi really _had_ been paying attention; he threw up his hands. "Forfeit!"

Wolfwood steered Vash over to the treadmills. "Maybe this will get the girls watching. And you can't possibly ruin a treadmill. Hop on."

Vash started out at an easy 4 ile per hour jog. After a couple minutes, moved it up to 6. Nothing too strenuous; he didn't like full-out running unless he had to.

"Damn it, spikey, you're making me look bad! Crank up the speed! Look, picture you're chasing after someone who hurt Meryl!"

As they were being escorted from the gym, Wolfwood complained, "How in _hell_ do you burn out a fricking treadmill? How is it even _possible_ that you could run at over forty iles an hour?"

"I just pictured chasing someone who hurt Meryl, like you said," Vash explained. "I'd have every reason to catch a guy who did that."

"This was a bad idea all around," Wolfwood groused.

"I _told_ you I don't like going to the gym. Let's get a real workout by curling some whiskey shots."

"Hell yeah!"

Shortly thereafter, Meryl Stryfe and Milly Thompson entered the gym.

"I'm telling you, Milly, I don't like going to the gym."

"You don't seem to mind your workouts with Mr. Vash," Milly pointed out. "I heard you two having a hard workout last night."

When she told innocent Milly she and Vash were working out together, Meryl had not expected it to backfire. She immediately colored. "That's different! Vash is – he wouldn't – he's not – I love – he and I – he's my Vash. He's the exception."

"Come on, Meryl, be a sport! After all, what could go wrong?"

Somebody blurted, "Did that big girl just say 'Meryl'? Like in that one-man wrecking crew's Meryl? Let's get the hell outta here before that maniac comes back for her!" A storm of people fled past them.

Stunned, Milly and Meryl exchanged looks. "Was it something we said?"


End file.
